I guess everybody has one. Mine is reading. If I’m in a good book, I’ve been known to read twelve hours straight. This has been going on since my first grade Alice and Jerry primer. I think you have to be my age to remember that series.
I absolutely cannot get into bed at night without my current read. When I was raising a family and working, I read for about 10 minutes then passed out. Now, I can read for hours. Why not? No schedule. Just sleep in.
Even as a kid, I kept a flashlight under my mattress to take out after “lights out,” cover my head with a blanket and keep reading.
My youngest didn’t get a good night’s sleep for the first four years of her life….of course, that meant her parents didn’t get much sleep either. I was beside myself….what to do?? I am not a fan of crying it out. That was my mother’s advice then I read Primal Scream and had visions of my kids going into therapy screaming because I didn’t attend to their needs….even in the middle of the night.
Four years into this delirium, a light bulb hit me. I got her cassette tapes and little paperbacks that she could follow. It was her quiet time and she was free to read and listen to the books until she relaxed and fell asleep. It was a miracle! Of course, now there are noise machines. Maybe, that would’ve done the trick. But, she still reads….just like me….when she gets in bed.
This has been some summer….pretty much out of commission for two months. What to do??
READ! I’ve been devouring a book every other day since we landed back in Maryland in May. Mostly on my Kindle, which means it’s on my phone and iPad, as well. Easy access.
I wish I had the discipline so many of my friends do. They check out library books or download them onto their Kindles. Unfortunately, I’m an instant gratification girl. Want to read it now, which means buying them through Amazon. And, is anyone every going to read it again on my Kindle? Of course not.
Of course, I think I’m saving the environment because I don’t read hard covers or paperbacks anymore. After donating, 5,000 used books to the Howard County Library four years ago, I’m never going to buy another one unless I want to reread it….which I almost never do.
When I think about this, I think I’m nuts. Even in retirement, I’m constantly trying to save money and cut corners. I’m sure I could’ve taken a Caribbean cruise on what I’ve spent on books this summer.
Where do I get book recommendations? The Washington Post book reviews have inspired my choices….many hits, some real misses. I always ask my youngest what she’s reading….I trust her more than the Post, actually. Goodreads. Yep, I check out what my friends are reading or their personalized reading suggestions based on what I’ve liked in the past. I try to rate and write reviews for the books I read but I can’t keep up. Too busy with the next read.
What do I read? Basically, the New York Times Top Ten or FLUFF. I love fluff. I got so immersed in two fluff series this summer , I read all nine books in 10 days. JoAnn Demaio writes from the beach on Long Island Sound, and Mary Alice Monroe whisks me off to Sullivan’s Island in South Carolina. It’s all about the beach and romance. I’m hooked!
There are genres that just don't do it for me….sci-fi is one. I don’t think I could read a Stephen King book without having nightmares all night long. Not a fan of fantasy. Never really got into James Patterson.
The best? A Gentleman in Moscow by Amor Towles. Didn’t want to read it. Thought it would be too depressing. I was totally wrong. It’s a book about hope and that’s exactly what I need right now!
Britt-Marie Was Here by Fredrik Backman, who wrote A Man Called Ove. If you liked Ove, you’ll love Britt-Marie. Yes, she’s a bit dull, but turns out to be absolutely charming.
The Identicals by Elin Hilderbrand. It ended up on the New York Times best seller list for 2016. Set in Nantucket and Martha’s Vineyard, the beach and romance. Is there a better combo? Fluff and good lit.
Then, there was The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo by Taylor Jenkins Reid. Think Liz Taylor but 100 times more fun!
So, those were my best reads for this summer but I admit I did order a paperback. The Most by Nora Ephron….my absolute favorite author ever! I wept when she passed away five years ago at the age of 71, which I think is way too young! The Most was published in 2013….it’s a combo of her best work.
Every evening, I select an essay to read. She was one in a million….literally laugh out loud hilarious.
Nothing like smiling at the end of the day!! Happy reading!
Thursday, August 24, 2017
Monday, August 14, 2017
Step Up
I’m a cinephile. Pure and simple. Not just any cinephile. I’m an elitist cinephile. Proud of it. I grew up on movies. Every Saturday trekking to the Beacham Theatre in downtown Orlando. Of course, that was a looong time ago…way before cineplexes. Back when there was only one theatre, showing one movie. Back when there were news shorts before the showing.
Basically, high school date night was a movie, followed by a visit to Steak n’ Shake checking out who was there. Back then, there was only one Steak ’n Shake on good ole Orange Blossom Trail. Now, there are eight.
Forgive me. I digress. Buff Honey shares my love of film, although he’s not so elitist. We used to go weekly, sometimes twice weekly to see a movie. Tuesday’s the cheap senior day…Tightwad Tuesdays. We’re regulars.
This summer has been the worst. I am sick of Marvel comics, Superheroes, Apes acting more human than humans, stupid horror movies, omnipresent gratuitous violence. Done and done. Every week, it’s basically the same conversation. “Sugar, I think I’m going to see a movie but I don’t think you’d like it.”
Fine. I’ll read a book. Then, he comes home, swearing he’ll never go to another superhero/ape/horror movie again. Duh….
I have seen two worthwhile movies this summer and one beautiful one. The Big Sick was great fun; Maudie was less fun but much more substantive. When my kids asked me about Maudie, I hesitated for a moment trying to explain it. The immediately asked in stereo, “Is it about old love?” What do I say to that? Yes…but….so much more.
And, then, Step, hit the screen. The Washington Post gave it four stars. That happens about twice a year, usually late in the year when the Oscar hopefuls finally debut.
So, yesterday, I went with my two kids, Justin and Chelsea, after my grandson’s fourth birthday party. In Baltimore, the setting for the movie, at The Charles Theatre. Basically, I knew it was a documentary that highlighted the senior year of three teenage girls who attended the charter, Baltimore School of Leadership for Young Women.
All three young women were members of the step dance team that had never won a competition despite hours of commitment. All three were striving to be the first person in their families to attend college. All three were determined to get out of the inner city. They were dogged by their principal, their step team coach, and by their guidance counselor who, against all odds, did whatever she could to get these girls into higher ed institutions.
The authenticity of this movie defies credulity. The viewer is in their homes, witnessing how tough it can be to stay on course when your mom suffers from depression, your stepfather loses his job, the bills pile up, there’s no food in the house.
And, yet, there’s this spark that keeps them going. There’s this tremendous effort to stay on track and not succumb to easy sex or fly into a rage when you feel dissed by another member of the dance team. It’s a movie about hope. And, boy, does it deliver.
About mid way, tears were streaming down my face…like they are right now. My kids got pretty emotional, as well. At the end of the movie, the audience erupted into applause. My daughter declared, “I feel these girls are my friends.” Yeah, it’s that good.
I pray these girls make it. Having taught in the inner city, I know there are thousands more just like them. Most of them without the support of the amazing leaders at BSLYW. I remember how talented, how expressive, how smart so many of my urban high school students were. They were fighting overwhelming odds.
After this horrific weekend, I think every person in this country, especially, the President, would benefit from watching this astounding and uplifting movie. Kudos to the documentarian and more kudos to the families for inviting us into their homes. This one will stay with me for a long time.
It could be me. It could be you.
Basically, high school date night was a movie, followed by a visit to Steak n’ Shake checking out who was there. Back then, there was only one Steak ’n Shake on good ole Orange Blossom Trail. Now, there are eight.
Forgive me. I digress. Buff Honey shares my love of film, although he’s not so elitist. We used to go weekly, sometimes twice weekly to see a movie. Tuesday’s the cheap senior day…Tightwad Tuesdays. We’re regulars.
This summer has been the worst. I am sick of Marvel comics, Superheroes, Apes acting more human than humans, stupid horror movies, omnipresent gratuitous violence. Done and done. Every week, it’s basically the same conversation. “Sugar, I think I’m going to see a movie but I don’t think you’d like it.”
Fine. I’ll read a book. Then, he comes home, swearing he’ll never go to another superhero/ape/horror movie again. Duh….
I have seen two worthwhile movies this summer and one beautiful one. The Big Sick was great fun; Maudie was less fun but much more substantive. When my kids asked me about Maudie, I hesitated for a moment trying to explain it. The immediately asked in stereo, “Is it about old love?” What do I say to that? Yes…but….so much more.
And, then, Step, hit the screen. The Washington Post gave it four stars. That happens about twice a year, usually late in the year when the Oscar hopefuls finally debut.
So, yesterday, I went with my two kids, Justin and Chelsea, after my grandson’s fourth birthday party. In Baltimore, the setting for the movie, at The Charles Theatre. Basically, I knew it was a documentary that highlighted the senior year of three teenage girls who attended the charter, Baltimore School of Leadership for Young Women.
All three young women were members of the step dance team that had never won a competition despite hours of commitment. All three were striving to be the first person in their families to attend college. All three were determined to get out of the inner city. They were dogged by their principal, their step team coach, and by their guidance counselor who, against all odds, did whatever she could to get these girls into higher ed institutions.
The authenticity of this movie defies credulity. The viewer is in their homes, witnessing how tough it can be to stay on course when your mom suffers from depression, your stepfather loses his job, the bills pile up, there’s no food in the house.
And, yet, there’s this spark that keeps them going. There’s this tremendous effort to stay on track and not succumb to easy sex or fly into a rage when you feel dissed by another member of the dance team. It’s a movie about hope. And, boy, does it deliver.
About mid way, tears were streaming down my face…like they are right now. My kids got pretty emotional, as well. At the end of the movie, the audience erupted into applause. My daughter declared, “I feel these girls are my friends.” Yeah, it’s that good.
I pray these girls make it. Having taught in the inner city, I know there are thousands more just like them. Most of them without the support of the amazing leaders at BSLYW. I remember how talented, how expressive, how smart so many of my urban high school students were. They were fighting overwhelming odds.
After this horrific weekend, I think every person in this country, especially, the President, would benefit from watching this astounding and uplifting movie. Kudos to the documentarian and more kudos to the families for inviting us into their homes. This one will stay with me for a long time.
It could be me. It could be you.
Friday, August 4, 2017
Hobbling Into the Next Decade
In just a few weeks, I will be SEVENTY!!! Of course, I will be having a little celebration with family, extended family and a few steadfast friends. There will be lots of grandkids playing baseball, soccer and water games, while the adults get their fill of barbecue and preferred beverages. I remember most every milestone.
I don’t remember turning 20, no doubt because of my state of mind or lack thereof. Thirty, I was in the throes of disco, under flashing lights wearing a strapless white top that at one point accidentally exposed my right boob. I would say sexy top, but I only weighed 95 and hardly qualified as sexy. Boyish would be more in the ballpark.
Forty was one of my fondest memories. Kevin and I moved to Columbia from Hartford a year or two earlier. I had just started teaching again and had a few local friends. We had one teenager, and two toddlers. “We’re going to celebrate at Tio Pepe’s,” he announced. Wow, I’m shocked….very high end restaurant for us who had about two nickels to rub together. We leave the house to go out for a drink first then return to the house for ‘something’ he had forgotten. We go in and my best friends from Hartford jump out along with my best new teacher friends. Thrilled! He pulled it off. I had no idea. But, we never got to Tio Pepe’s.
Fifty was just sad. I had lost him to AIDS the year before. My closest friends feted me. They were wonderful but I, unfortunately, was bereft.
King’s Contrivance Restaurant was the ideal setting for my sixtieth. A colonial home renovated into a fabulous dining place. Our party of 10 had our own private dining room upstairs, formerly one of the bedrooms fit for royalty. Of course, my children were there. The oldest was about six weeks from birthing my first grandchild. The toasts from them were poignant and, of course, they evoked many tears of joy.
For some reason, none of these milestones never unnerved me. I was fine with turning 40 then 50 then 60. But, SEVENTY?!! Nope. Not okay with it. Seventy is old. Of course, 80 is older but many of us don’t make it to eighty or ninety much less.
Plus, I’m really pissed that I’m having to go through rehab this summer AGAIN! This is my third hip replacement. This one is a replacement of the replacement done 17 years ago. I bounced right back. Of course, I did….I was only 52 years old! I was in great shape! Now, I feel like I’m losing muscle mass by the minute!
I remember my mother complaining a couple of decades ago that all her friends wanted to talk about were their incessant aches and pains. She had nothing to add to the conversation. She was the picture of perfect health. Most of them are gone now, but she’s here and claims to still have NO aches and pains! She is 91 years old!!
Her biggest complaint is her house has been infested with fleas twice. Yes, she has a cat that she is head over heels in love with, but she swears the cat does not have fleas. My solution is to get rid of the carpet and put down wood or tile. I don’t care how many times the fumigators come, the fleas are winning the battle. This is just further proof of why I abhor carpet.
Labor Day weekend I will be hitting that big milestone. Yes, I’m hobbling, but I’ve got some pretty good genes. My fraternal grandparents lived to be 87 and 88. My maternal grandfather made it to 92, my father to 90 and my mother to probably over 100. The only outlier was my mother's mother who died at 69 of cancer….probably due to secondhand smoke that permeated the house since my grandfather (yep, the one lived to be 92) smoked 3 packs a day.
Now….if I can just keep my mind in tact!!!
I don’t remember turning 20, no doubt because of my state of mind or lack thereof. Thirty, I was in the throes of disco, under flashing lights wearing a strapless white top that at one point accidentally exposed my right boob. I would say sexy top, but I only weighed 95 and hardly qualified as sexy. Boyish would be more in the ballpark.
Forty was one of my fondest memories. Kevin and I moved to Columbia from Hartford a year or two earlier. I had just started teaching again and had a few local friends. We had one teenager, and two toddlers. “We’re going to celebrate at Tio Pepe’s,” he announced. Wow, I’m shocked….very high end restaurant for us who had about two nickels to rub together. We leave the house to go out for a drink first then return to the house for ‘something’ he had forgotten. We go in and my best friends from Hartford jump out along with my best new teacher friends. Thrilled! He pulled it off. I had no idea. But, we never got to Tio Pepe’s.
Fifty was just sad. I had lost him to AIDS the year before. My closest friends feted me. They were wonderful but I, unfortunately, was bereft.
King’s Contrivance Restaurant was the ideal setting for my sixtieth. A colonial home renovated into a fabulous dining place. Our party of 10 had our own private dining room upstairs, formerly one of the bedrooms fit for royalty. Of course, my children were there. The oldest was about six weeks from birthing my first grandchild. The toasts from them were poignant and, of course, they evoked many tears of joy.
For some reason, none of these milestones never unnerved me. I was fine with turning 40 then 50 then 60. But, SEVENTY?!! Nope. Not okay with it. Seventy is old. Of course, 80 is older but many of us don’t make it to eighty or ninety much less.
Plus, I’m really pissed that I’m having to go through rehab this summer AGAIN! This is my third hip replacement. This one is a replacement of the replacement done 17 years ago. I bounced right back. Of course, I did….I was only 52 years old! I was in great shape! Now, I feel like I’m losing muscle mass by the minute!
I remember my mother complaining a couple of decades ago that all her friends wanted to talk about were their incessant aches and pains. She had nothing to add to the conversation. She was the picture of perfect health. Most of them are gone now, but she’s here and claims to still have NO aches and pains! She is 91 years old!!
Her biggest complaint is her house has been infested with fleas twice. Yes, she has a cat that she is head over heels in love with, but she swears the cat does not have fleas. My solution is to get rid of the carpet and put down wood or tile. I don’t care how many times the fumigators come, the fleas are winning the battle. This is just further proof of why I abhor carpet.
Labor Day weekend I will be hitting that big milestone. Yes, I’m hobbling, but I’ve got some pretty good genes. My fraternal grandparents lived to be 87 and 88. My maternal grandfather made it to 92, my father to 90 and my mother to probably over 100. The only outlier was my mother's mother who died at 69 of cancer….probably due to secondhand smoke that permeated the house since my grandfather (yep, the one lived to be 92) smoked 3 packs a day.
Now….if I can just keep my mind in tact!!!
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